


The Scars of Belonging

by Sigmund



Category: The Musketeers (2014)
Genre: Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Torture, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-28
Updated: 2014-08-07
Packaged: 2018-02-10 17:34:44
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,318
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2033880
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sigmund/pseuds/Sigmund
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Soldiers often have to do things that they find distasteful.  d'Artagnan finds the concept difficult to grasp as he witnesses less than honorable actions until he is effected by the actions of others.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

"Please cease your withering looks, d'Artagnan. They are ineffective," Athos said from atop his horse just a few strides ahead.

They had been sent on a mission to find a man that was spreading rumors and sedition, finding him with his family and not in hiding. d'Artagnan did not agree with the methods Athos had used to ensure the man's silence. "You humiliated that man in front of his family."

In front of his family Athos took the man to task with swords. With a thwack and a shove, Athos relentlessly set the man to the floor over twenty times with various cuts from his sword and bruises until finally the man begged for mercy. It was his family that bothered d'Artagnan, his wife and daughter crying and his son biting his lip as his father was abused, the beaten man could not meet their eyes.

"It was the king's business and I followed my orders." Athos's visage was focused ahead. "It is no more than you receive when we train."

d'Artagnan urged his horse forward to match Athos. "You seek to humiliate me?"

Athos turned and gave a measured, "No."

The younger man was appeased; feeling the simple answer from his mentor was enough. D'Artagnan never felt humiliated. Still, he was a musketeer and the other man had no such training. "You were arrogant."

"You're too soft hearted," Athos retorted. D'Artagnan could sense Athos's patience was waning. "What do you believe the Red Guards would have done? Cut out his tongue, burned down his home, tortured his children or wife?"

It was known the Red Guards were not as civil or honorable. They would have done worse.

Athos's face was grim. "I took an ounce of pride to stop him from spreading sedition, and I have to hope that is enough or else it will go worse for him."

It was true that if the man continued then he would be killed and Athos would be reprimanded for not handling the situation properly. "I understand."

Athos shifted in his saddle. "d'Artagnan, I hope that you never get blood on your hands, but in this business it is inevitable." Athos sped up again, putting some distance between them.

They remained silent as the maneuvered the streets of Paris towards the garrison.

"You have returned," Aramis greeted them as did Porthos.

Athos acted as usual and d'Artagnan followed his lead, learning that to be a good musketeer required him to be accustomed to much more than swordfight and gunplay.  

(())

Leon Allaire was aware that Marie was the woman of a musketeer, but she kept glancing in his direction and her actions emboldened him. He placed his hands on her, kissed her, although she scrunched her face and tried to push him away.

He was holding her tight against him so she would stop her struggling. He did not notice the musketeers entering until he was physically pulled away from the lovely Marie and rendered unconscious by the butt of a musket.

When he awoke he was tied to a chair surrounded by three musketeers waiting for him to wake up. He got backhanded as soon as he opened his eyes.

"Red Guard scum. Marie is a Musketeer's woman."

Leon was struck again. He tried to make out their faces, but they were hidden under masks. "Release me!"

When the musketeers untied him he thought they were going to send him on his way. Instead they re-secured his arms behind him and brought him to a vat of water. They forced his head into the water, holding him down while he struggled.

They repeated the action again. When they allowed him up he was light headed and sputtering. He relished taking in a few wet breaths, coughing along with it. Leon did not know where they were, but a door opened to the room, momentarily illuminating an alley outside. "What is going on here?"

There was only one candle in the corner throwing shadows, but the new arrival was not wearing a mask and Leon was looking for a moment when he could make out the man.

"We are teaching this Red Guard fool that he should stay away from what belongs to the Musketeers." The musketeer forced Leon's head under the water, but this time it was for a short time, not enough to incite the Red Guard's panic.

Leon vowed he would not look at another woman for a year, at least any that were with the musketeer vermin.

"You're drowning him?" The unmasked musketeer asked.

"We are punishing him, getting justice. Are you helping your brothers? You can stand guard." One of the original three suggested.

There was a long pause, but Leon relished the break from being attacked. "I rather wish to be on my way while you go about your business."

The fourth man was detained by one of the masked men. "d'Artagnan, this remains amongst us."

Leon smiled and held onto that name. Someone would pay for this as soon as he was free he would go to the Cardinal for his revenge. The Cardinal said he would reward anyone who could show Musketeer treachery.

(())

D'Artagnan wiped a hand down his face as he closed the door, returning to the Paris streets, trying to erase what he had witnessed. It was happenchance that he walked in upon the musketeers, having heard an odd noise and deciding to investigate.

He did not think he would find Edmund, Arc and Bastian drowning a Red Guard. D'Artagnan had no love for the Cardinal's men, but at least there was honor in a swordfight or hand to hand combat. It was expected. Torture was used only to find information, and most of what d'Artagnan has witnessed were threats.

Lost in his thought, but aiming for a tavern, he found one and ordered a drink. He turned and saw Aramis in the corner, a woman draped on his lap. D'Artagnan caught his friend's eye before he approached.

The blonde woman had a revealing ample bosom, along with the confidence Aramis liked in women. Aramis nuzzled her neck. "My dear, can we have a moment?"

She laughed and graced d'Artagnan with a smile before removing herself from Aramis's legs. He gave her an affectionate swat, then directed his attention to d'Artagnan. "What's amiss?"

D'Artagnan drank his wine before answering as he searched for the words to use. He had made a promise to the others, but this was also a fellow musketeer. "I interrupted some other musketeers that were less than honorable in their actions."

Aramis studied him intensely for a moment as if he was reading d'Artagnan's soul. "Is this why there is a chill between you and Athos?"

He thought he had hid it better, and was not treating Athos any differently. Yet, that was not true if Aramis could see a difference.

Aramis looked down at his hands. "You know that there are times that there are orders that you must follow that may be distasteful."

D'Artagnan nodded, kicking himself for bringing up memories of Savoy that tortured his friend. Captain Treville had not been immune to the king's whims and need to save his orders to save the king's sister. D'Artagnan had not been placed in that position, but knew one day it would happen for him to live with the guilt. "It is hard to see the honor at times."

Aramis played with his hat which also rested on the table, avoiding d'Artagnan's eyes. "You are sitting in judgment. No one wants to be judged by the lofty eyes of another." He looked up with a smile. "Remember your brothers would die for you, defend you, and keep your secrets."

He had been a witness to their generosity and honor even as he had acted rash. He had tossed a dagger at Athos's back when they met. "A fair exchange." D'Artagnan raised his glass, emptying it.

Aramis gestured for the woman to return. She came with a tankard and another woman following her. "She bears gifts."

The pretty blonde sat next to d'Artagnan, placing a welcoming hand on his leg. Aramis set his conscience at ease, and d'Artagnan set out to enjoy himself to forget what he had seen earlier.


	2. Part 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for the kudos and reviews! WOW! I really appreciate the kindness.  
> There is a bbcmusketeer prompt that goes with this which I hope to find again.

d'Artagnan was watching Porthos and Athos spar, taking in their different styles and seeking their weaknesses until the grumbling in the yard caught his attention as ten Red Guards entered the garrison yard. Two came towards him; he stood to greet them with his hand resting on his sword as Aramis came shoulder to shoulder with him.

"You are under arrest."

"For what?" d'Artagnan looked at his friends in confusion.

"For the murder of Leon Allaire. He was one of us."

D'Artagnan shook his head. "I don't know him."

Treville came down the stairs, accepting the papers he was handed with the Cardinal's seal. "Go with them, d'Artagnan until we sort this out."

They watched as d'Artagnan was led out of the garrison, then followed Treville to his office. Treville passed the papers to Athos. "The dead guard said d'Artagnan's name on his deathbed."

"That is the only evidence against him?" Athos passed the paper to Porthos.

"Is it at all possible that d'Artagnan could have been involved?" Treville asked. "I know you men and the Red Guards. . ."

Aramis cleared his throat. "He was with me late into the evening with two fine women."

Porthos patted Aramis on the back. "Will that be enough to release him?"

Treville did not have a chance to answer the question before three other musketeers entered. Athos nodded at Edmund ,Arc, and Bastian.

"Why are you interrupting?" Treville scolded.

"We just learned that d'Artagnan was taken to the Chatelet for the death of Leon Allaire. When we left him he was very much alive." Edmund explained, glancing at his two friends for confirmation.

"I do not understand." Treville sat back in his chair. "What have you to do with this matter?"

"This happened two nights ago?" Aramis asked, receiving a frown in response from Athos who wanted more information.

"Yes," Bastian stepped forward. "Leon had taken liberties with my woman and we sought to make sure it did not happen again. On my honor we punished him and sent him on his way."

"And d'Artagnan's involvement?" Athos asked. "Was he there as an accomplice?"

Edmund sighed. "He found us, but wanted no part of it, but I may have accidently used his name when I asked for his discretion."

"You should have killed Allaire or done nothing." Athos growled, disgusted in the men before him and finding it difficult for the insult to pass. "d'Artagnan will not pay the price for this."

"This isn't helping d'Artagnan. I'm thinking Leon probably went to a tavern to lick his wounds," Porthos supplied. "It's what a stupid Red Guard would do."

"We need to find out what happened to him, and in the meantime you three will go with me to the palace to secure d'Artagnan's release." Treville gestured to Edmund, Arc and Bastien.

"We apologize." They bowed to Athos, Porthos and Aramis. It was well known in the garrison that d'Artagnan was under their protection and tutelage. Edmund continued, "We will accept any punishment, but it is not for d'Artagnan to bear. He was not involved and tried to dissuade us from our endeavors."

Athos could do no more; instead they had to find out how Leon died. They started in the area that they were told he was last seen alive, going to the taverns in the area until someone recognized the description of Leon.

"He was here, boasting about how the Musketeers weren't brave enough to kill him." The barkeep said as he served a midday patron.

It was slow going to find a person that last saw Leon alive, but Aramis's ways with women along with Porthos's direct nature led to the Cardinal's witness.

A small man wearing a stocking hat seemed happy enough to tell them his story as he picked at his face. "Came out of there not able to put one foot in front of the other, then went up those stairs and fell."

The man pointed to stairs that led to another tavern a few doors away.

"He fell?" Aramis pressed and received an enthusiastic nod.

"There was lots of blood, and I thought if I brought him back to the Red Guards that I would get a reward. Kept saying d'Artagnan, d'Artagnan. Didn't get too far before he stopped mumbling and died." The man shrugged his shoulders as if drunken deaths were a common occurrence.

Porthos jingled his money pouch. "Did the Cardinal's men pay you?"

"Some, but it should have been more." The witness was thankfully an opportunist.

Athos felt some relief that at least they could prove that d'Artagnan did not cause Leon's death. He hoped that Treville would be able to have the other charges shifted to the rightful musketeers. "We need you to come with us and promise you a reward, too."

((()))

D'Artagnan calmed when he was taken to the palace to appear before the King and saw Treville, Athos, Aramis and Porthos. He was surprised to see Edmund, Arc and Bastian, but knew that meant that the truth was going to be revealed. His brothers would not fail him.

His time at the Chatelet had been less than pleasant. He was glad he would not be spending the night under the watchful eyes of the Red Guards looking for revenge for the death of their comrade.

d'Artagnan sported bruises on his torso, hidden by his clothes as the guards were careful not to have any outward signs show on his face. He shifted uncomfortably as he heard Treville give his report about the witness seeing Leon alive.

"It was an accident with d'Artagnan not involved, Your Majesty," Treville concluded. "d'Artagnan should be set free."

The Cardinal's eyes shined. He wanted revenge and his opportunity to strike was at hand. "It may have been an accident, but you heard that musketeers precipitated violence against one of my guardsmen."

"The matter was one involving a woman." Treville gestured for Edmund, Bastian and Arc to step forward in their musketeer finery. "These three accept blame, while d'Artagnan is blameless. They are willing to be punished as your majesty sees fit."

The Cardinal did not allow the king to answer. Edmund, Bastian and Arc were not the three musketeers he wanted to blame. "Leon Allaire did not name them. He only named d'Artagnan so he should be punished."

Treville gave a slight shake of his head. "Cardinal, you have heard that d'Artagnan is innocent and your guardsman was addled by drink."

"The name given was d'Artagnan," the Cardinal repeated.  "How do I know that these men are not embracing all for one and one for all?" He made it sound like a curse, not the words that stirred the hearts of the Musketeers. "The blame belongs and remains with d'Artagnan."

D'Artagnan could tell the king was bored with these events. "Very well, Cardinal what is your request?"

The Cardinal seemed to ponder for a moment before answering, "One hundred lashes. It was a most egregious crime." The audience gasped in response while d'Artagnan tried to school his own expression.

Treville raised his voice. "Sire, the Red Guard died not as a result of their actions, but his own. This is too much."

"Cardinal, this is one of my most recent Musketeers…" The king prompted.

"I will accept forty lashes as an example that there should be no further fighting between those that defend France."

"Forty lashes it is to be carried out tomorrow. D'Artagnan is freed from the charge of murder," the king announced.

D'Artagnan was in shock with a silence that enveloped him. He thought he bowed, but he heard Treville's answer as if it were in the distance.

"Very well. Thank you for your mercy, Your Highness."

((()))

The Red Guards took off the chains once the royal couple left the room. The Cardinal gave Treville a smug smile and ignored the others as he swept through, his black cape fluttering sharp like a wing.

D'Artagnan remained rooted in place, confused on how to take a step and to where. Athos, Porthos and Aramis came to his side as a presence, but did not speak. They were waiting for him.

Edmund, Arc and Bastian bowed to him. Bastian, with his hair tied back, hat removed from his head spoke, "d'Artagnan, we are sorry and ask for your forgiveness."

D'Artagnan shook his head. He could not face the three musketeers that caused him to be placed in the crossfire of a whip. He turned to face Athos. "If you tell me that they are my brothers, and that I have to forgive them, then I will not be able to control myself because I would be glad to have their blood on my hands."

"No," Athos said.

Porthos put his arms out wide to push the three troublemakers away from d'Artagnan. They knew enough to walk away. Athos, Aramis and Porthos waited until the other three had left the room before following behind them to go to the garrison.

They were almost outside when the Queen's maid detained them. "The Queen requests the company of d'Artagnan. She has said his friends may join him."

They were directed to an antechamber of the throne room. There the Queen was seated, a hand rested on her growing stomach. She was given more power over her husband with her pregnancy. The King would defer to her or ask her opinion with a glowing smile.

They bowed in her presence. Her ladies in waiting stood behind her.

She addressed d'Artagnan. "I understand that your lands were destroyed." D'Artagnan nodded. "Those shall be restored to you free from taxes while you serve the King. You will be allowed to collect your rents."

"Thank you Your Majesty." He bowed again at the unexpected news. Lupiac was a sore in his heart as he thought about his home being a burned out shell.

The Queen was quiet for a moment seeking words that would not give away the truth. "I wish there was more in regards to your punishment that I could change. The Cardinal sees only one direction. You must know the King values your loyalty, appreciates your service, and those of the other musketeers in defending him."

"Thank you, Your Majesty for your kindness." Aramis said, his head still up, never fully gesticulating.

They were outside when they were allowed to speak freely. Aramis mounted his horse. "The Cardinal gets his revenge for our actions."

"He is not one to be contrite and humble," Athos added.

A wave of anger rose up in d'Artagnan. These men would not be affected; he was the one that would fill the sting of a whip against his skin. "Flogging. It's humiliating, but it's only some of my pride. Isn't that right, Athos?"

Athos did not reply, instead he kept his horse still.

D'Artagnan continued spewing, unable to control his tongue. "Don’t get involved, don't judge and trust my brothers. . ."

"That sounds like Aramis," Porthos commented, but a glance from d'Artagnan had him frowning. "I don't know if I like him angry at me."

It was enough that d'Artagnan came to his senses. The anger was displaced. "That was poor of me." He patted his horse to calm his discomfort.

"No need for apologies," Aramis answered. "Shall we return to the garrison or to a tavern? I believe that Treville would understand under the circumstances the need for the tavern."

"I would like to avoid them setting up the staging," Aramis added, his horse stepping forward, but then had the good sense to bow his head in apology of his callousness.

"First round is on you," Porthos said, reaching over to give d'Artagnan a pat on the back. "We'll get you drunk enough to feel nothing."

(())

There was not enough wine because the next morning d'Artagnan awoke to see his friends were in his room also asleep. He stood up, attempting to be quiet to look out the window. He had seen it when they had stumbled into the garrison, the place where he would be whipped. The others tried to distract him, Porthos having to physically pull him away and push him up the stairs to his room.

"Do you wish for food or drink?" Athos asked. The others were stirring behind him so he drew himself away from the window.

His stomach was already churning with nausea. "I do not believe I can eat."

Porthos handed him a half empty bottle that was near his makeshift bed. "Drink."

"Better to be flogged in a stupor." Aramis stretched like a cat as he awoke, then patted down his hair.

"Is this advice from personal experience?" d'Artagnan jested, but it had more bite than he intended. He returned to sitting on his bed to slip on his boots not recalling taking them off before going to bed, which meant one of the other man had done it. They were watching over him. He jumped at the soft knock at the door, but did not make a move to answer it.

Porthos opened the door in a huff of annoyance at the disturbance. There was no conversation, and he closed the door. "Edmund, Arc and Bastian want to talk to you. I can get rid of them for you."

Although it was tempting to have Porthos take a pound of their flesh, d'Artagnan had been told that the rest of the garrison was providing them no quarter. The Gascon glanced to Athos to realize the charade of avoidance would not be wise. "Allow them in."

Porthos opened the door, but the three musketeers only stepped in past the threshold. The door remained ajar. "We've told Treville that we wished to be flogged beside you, but he said that it would be your decision."

D'Artagnan rubbed a hand down his face, then turned to Porthos, Aramis and Athos for assistance. Athos was distant as if was removing himself from the matter, Aramis seemed to be considering it while Porthos was agreeing with the suggestion.

"No. I do not want the Cardinal to have that much satisfaction." The Red Guards would be filing in shortly for the spectacle. Athos gave him a pat on the back.

The three musketeers did not put up any resistance, but were dejected. They wanted to atone. D'Artagnan could not find a way for them to do so, would take time to even allow it after he had been whipped.

Porthos gestured for them to leave. Treville was calling for the Musketeers to assemble.

D'Artagnan pulled off his shirt, having left his cloak, jacket and pauldron in his room. He passed it to Aramis for safekeeping.

"You are bruised. Are those from the Red Guards?" Aramis ghosted over the marks on d'Artagnan's torso.

"I'll kill them." Porthos vowed, only being restrained by Athos.

D'Artagnan shook his head. "It does not matter. Not now." They did not bother him as much as what he would be facing. As he stepped out he could see the sea of blue capes, usually so stirring, but this time he wanted to erase the scene from his memory as the Musketeers stood side by side with the Red Guards. Blue and red clashed.

d'Artagnan took the steps to the center of the garrison alone. He felt his three friends following him, their eyes upon him. However, they could only stand as witnesses.

He had lost the innocence of Lupiac, gained a new understanding that honor among soldiers was fluid. Good musketeers were cocky and arrogant, They had ruthlessness, which he had seen in himself that spilled into recklessness with repercussions. There was a lesson for him, but it would carry a bitterness for a while.

He put his hands in front of him and got into place, seeing as he was going to be tied to the post with his hands above him looped through a hook. The punisher tapped at his feet, which were tied to the post. It would not be wise to have his body moving while being lashed.

The decree was read by the Cardinal in a loud voice filled with pride. D'Artagnan ignored it in order to prepare. He willed himself to not call out. The first lash burned as did the next few until his mind could not register the pain any longer. Twenty other lashes and the deliverer switched to the other side. The break refreshed the pain once more, settling into numbness.

D'Artagnan felt himself going weak, using the pole to hold him up while his arms hung. His focus was the sound; the whish as the flogger was pulled back then went through the air before striking. Mercifully, the sound stopped.

It was not the man who had been punishing his body that cut him down. Athos took his sword to the loop holding his hands on the hook while Aramis was at his feet. Porthos had his flank, holding him up as his legs fully took their weight.

The Gascon felt himself falter, but Porthos kept him standing.

"It is an ounce of pride that they took,"d'Artagnan mumbled past the dryness in his throat and the taste of iron on his lips. He had bit his tongue to keep his silence at one point.

"Nothing was taken," Athos said quietly close to his ear. "You showed courage and honor. Did you not hear the musketeers?"

D'Artagnan shook his head, he had not heard anything, but when he looked up he saw that the musketeers had formed a line, an honor guard, which protected him from the eyes of the Red Guards.

"They roared for you, never heard anything like it," Porthos said with a nod of pride.

"Did I call out?" If he hadn't heard the musketeers, then what if he had yelled without noticing?

"No." Aramis rubbed the back of his head.

D'Artagnan took steps slowly, feeling his friends surrounding him. "Help me, but do not carry me." He could collapse in private, but not here in front of the Musketeers, Red Guards or the Cardinal. There could be no weakness.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for the kudos and comments. I am glad also that OP is enjoying the story. I also want to say how much I am enjoying this fandom-- reading quite a range of stories from AZ Girl, Sabishiioni (making me cry), JEAikiman, Rimz08, RobinLorin, and mellyflori- all so different, but engaging.
> 
> Happy reading.

Athos should not have been impressed by d'Artagnan's determination. It was expected. The same expectation he had of Porthos and Aramis, too. Still, d'Artagnan was a new Musketeer and his brothers should have taken better care. Young musketeers paid for their mistakes, but not for the mistakes of others. That came later when they were entwined within the brotherhood.

d'Artagnan faltered once they closed the door. Athos gave the signal for Porthos to carry him to the bed.

"I think I may be sick." d'Artagnan announced with a groan.

Aramis put the chamber pot on his lap. The Gascon heaved, expelled what seemed to be some of last night's drink, then spat.

"Drink," Aramis placed a cup in d'Artagnan's hand, guided it to his mouth. d'Artagnan winced at the taste, but continued to finish the drink under Aramis's watchful eyes.

Aramis gave a silent command, Athos complying by guiding d'Artagnan to lay on his stomach. His hair was sweat soaked.

There was a knock at the door, which Porthos answered bringing in two buckets of water before retrieving a pot of steaming water that had been left at the door. They were given privacy to tend to d'Artagnan.

Athos took one of the buckets and a cloth to wipe down d'Artagnan's hair, then settled the cloth on the younger man's neck.

Aramis used the warm water to clean the injured man's back with him wincing and gasping as the cloth swirled red. "I'm trying to be gentle."

"The bleeding's not stopping," Porthos commented. Athos growled at him, but Porthos was nonplussed. "What do you need?"

Aramis ran his hands through his hair, having discarded his hat as soon as he entered d'Artagnan's room. "I cannot stich this- the skin is shredded."

"Can you stop the bleeding?" Athos was trying to get his friend to focus. Aramis was brilliant, but the sight of d'Artagnan's back was overwhelming, mottled, peeled skin that was more akin to raw meat.

"Honey and salt. It will protect it while it heals, close the wounds and prevent infection. It won't be pleasant." Aramis looked towards d'Artagnan. "And you cannot move until the wounds stop bleeding."

d'Artagnan turned his head. "I trust you."

"Honey and salt," Athos said. Porthos moved out the door before being asked.

The paste was sticky and difficult to initially apply. d'Artagnan cushioned his head on his bent elbows. He tried to shift away from the mixture, but soft words and restricting hands limited his movements.

Eventually, d'Artagnan fell into a fitful doze, his back slick and uncovered, showing the lash marks. There would be scars, but hopefully no infection.

Aramis gestured they converse away from the bed. "He's already warm with fever, but I believe it's his body's way of dealing with trauma. He needs to give that time to knit. We can't have him moving around."

Porthos crossed his arms. "We can take turns watching him during the night, but it's not going to be easy to keep the lad here like this."

"Should be a few days, I hope. It's cruel, though, like extending the punishment." Aramis sighed.

The intention was to have Porthos stay with d'Artagnan the first night, but none of them showed interest of leaving the younger man's side. They played cards to pass the time, tried to keep d'Artagnan cool and relaxed in slumber.

When he did wake in the late hours he tried to push himself up, uncomfortable on his stomach, feeling hot with his back on fire.

Athos heard the rustling, and when he moved from his chair the sound had Aramis and Porthos alert. Athos placed a hand on the Gascon's too warm head. "Shhh, you were injured. You have to stay put."

"I wasn't injured. I was whipped." D'Artagnan snorted. "Can you help me at least get to my side a little bit?"

Aramis nodded.

Porthos helped the wounded young man move to his side, sitting on the bed so that d'Artagnan could lean against him. "Aramis can help you create a tale about how you were saving some fine woman and got hurt. How else can you explain his success?"

"Surely, not his comely looks." Athos deadpanned.

"Ah, the sound of jealousy," Aramis replied. "Drink this. It will help with the fever." He had a cup of wine that he had infused with herbs waiting for the young man to wake.

d'Artagnan grimaced at the taste, but drank it all the same. "This isn't what I thought being a musketeer would be like."

Athos cleared his throat. "Your friendship with us brought you some unwanted notice."

d'Artagnan raised a brow. "And yet you keep saying that I am the one that finds trouble?"

"You do," Porthos answered. "It's what makes you a good musketeer."

"I don't know if that makes me a good musketeer or a stupid one. I did get involved with Milady and this mess. . ." D'Artagnan pushed his hair away as it fell forward, then rubbed his eyes.

Athos bent down, not liking the defeatist tone. "Circumstances which you handled well, like a _great_ musketeer."

"With the help of your fine friends, who also happen to be great musketeers," Aramis added, which had d'Artagnan giving a small grin even as his eyes closed.

Porthos slowly set d'Artagnan back on his stomach when the young man did not resist. Within moments he was asleep once more.

(())

Athos had to agree with Porthos's prediction; keeping d'Artagnan put would be an issue. The fever lasted into the next day, soon after d'Artagnan was feeling better, but some of the wounds were still weeping. He had to remain on his stomach or supported on his side. Athos brought him books, which were browsed then discarded, carefully placed on the floor in a pile by d'Artagnan's head so he could access them on a whim.

Standing up for limited time proved Aramis's point, the lashes would open, seep, leaving d'Artagnan frustrated and back in bed.

"You have to give them time to seal. They already look better, but they are still raw." Aramis applied more of the honey and salt to encourage the marks to knit.

He had removed any looking glasses from d'Artagnan's room, since he did not want the young man to view his back or ask to see it. It was stomach turning, still looking like someone had tried to skin him, but at least the skin was more pink than red. Touching the wounds caused d'Artagnan to hiss and flinch. The salt stung on the exposed skin.

"As a child when you were ill were you this belligerent?"

d'Artagnan huffed. "I was not sickly. On the rare occasions I remember sleeping, eating a little and drinking this vile brew. . ."

Aramis smiled, wiping his hands on a damp cloth. "A sleeping draught?"

Athos's mouth quirked up. "It was effective."

d'Artagnan tried to raise himself up, but fell back as Athos placed a hand on the top of his shoulder. "No. Wait, I can't believe it. My own father. . ."

"I can see why." Aramis was unable to hide his mirth, chortling. He wiped tears from his eyes. "The one I gave you was just for the pain and fever, but do try to be a better patient."

It was Porthos who had the brilliant idea to enlist the musketeers to help their brother as he convalesced. This brought in the visits from any musketeer available at all hours. d'Artagnan was a captive and willing audience to listen to the stories the men brought to his bedside. For d'Artagnan he was learning more about the other musketeers, their ways, personalities, idiosyncrasies, experiences and mistakes. The young Gascon was one of them, part of their brotherhood. There was a reminder for the other musketeers too, on upholding their code.

Finally, Aramis was satisfied that d'Artagnan could have limited movement, nothing that would stretch and pull the healing marks, but he could at least move around the garrison with a shirt covering his mending back, anything else would irritate the skin. The pauldron, his jacket would have to wait. There would be no sword fighting for a little while longer.

Aramis passed d'Artagnan the shirt as he sat on the bed. d'Artagnan took it in his hand, turning it over. "How bad is it?"

The medic decided to ignore the young man, humming and tiding up the room instead.

"Aramis, I would like to see," d'Artagnan tried again.

He stopped humming. Aramis sighed. The Gascon's back was originally smooth with no marring, but now it would be unrecognizable and monstrous. "Wait a little longer."

"Please."

Aramis shook his head, but acquiesced. "Stay here." He had placed the looking glasses in his room, carried them back with a heavy heart. Aramis silently placed one in d'Artagnan's hands and positioned himself behind the young man. "Remember, it is still healing."

The Gascon thinned his lips as he studied his back, his face schooled to blankness. "It's not what I expected." He put the glass down on the bed.

"There was no way to warn you." Aramis took a seat next to the younger man.

d'Artagnan worked the shirt over his arms and Aramis helped pull it down over his back, placing his hand on the back of the young musketeer's neck. "They will fade."

((()))

d'Artagnan sat at the table, cleaning some of the muskets. He squinted as Athos, Porthos and Aramis took a seat next to him. They had duty at the palace.

"Edmund, Bastian and Arc?" d'Artagnan looked as though he had been saving the question, waiting for them to arrive. "I have not seen them."

"Their mission takes them to the mountains for the next few months," Athos replied. Treville had made the arrangements and the trio had not disagreed, gone willingly.

"At least," Aramis added.

"Punishment." Porthos grinned.

"Of a sort." Athos thought that they deserved to be stripped of their commission, but Treville thought that loss would be a win for the Cardinal. The Captain, as usual, had made a measured decision. "They will return wiser for it."

d'Artagnan moved in closer to the other three. "It's the Cardinal that deserves to be punished." He put down the musket as his back flared when it rippled it in anger. He would bear scars because of the despicable nature of the minister of France.

"The King has been embarrassing him, make asides about the loyalty of his Musketeers. He knows how the men reacted to your flogging," Aramis explained.

"Keeps mentioning you as his favorite." Athos drawled. He didn't know if it was good or bad that d'Artagnan was in receipt of the king's favor. d'Artagnan had already made a powerful enemy in the Cardinal and more could follow, but Athos, Porthos and Aramis had vowed again to protect him as they watched him be flogged.

"Makes me wonder how he treats those who are not his favorite?" Porthos asked, knocking on the table.

"It's not enough, though, is it?"d'Artagnan asked, but wasn’t expecting an answer. He had heard the stories from the other musketeers, the sacrifices made to secure the safety of the royals. d'Artagnan was willing, not to just to defend the King and Queen, the heir, too, but to have the privilege to stand with his fellow Musketeers through it all. "But, it is because of this." d'Artagnan waved his hand to gesture to the garrison.

"For the brotherhood." Athos's hand moved closer to d'Artagnan's. "It's saved lives." Athos glanced towards Porthos and Aramis. They needed the musketeers, like Athos and d'Artagnan. "It will not fail you in the future."

d'Artagnan believed the oath, carried the scars of it.

The end

**Author's Note:**

> I will keep working on this-- I have the direction it will go in and rest of the plot.


End file.
